


Text Back, Please.

by mysterionparks



Category: South Park
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Brief fighting, Craig Tucker/Kyle Broflovski mentioned, Depression, Implied Kyle Broflovski/Stan Marsh, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Sad, Stressed Kyle, Tired Stan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-12 03:25:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18438041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysterionparks/pseuds/mysterionparks
Summary: It's another new, miserable year for Stan. He's tired of everything in his life - especially Kyle, who hasn't talked to him in months.Finally fed up with himself, Stan staggers alone through the city, drunk, alone, and missing Kyle.





	Text Back, Please.

**Author's Note:**

> Another sad one.. so sorry, I thrive at making depressing stories

Another new year. Another miserable, soul-sucking year on the Earth. At least, that's how Stan saw it. 

The past three months, Stan had changed completely as a person. He hated everyone, he hated everything, and most of all - he hated love. Basically everyone except Sharon, and Kenny had stopped answering his calls, and texts, too fucking annoyed with him. To them, he was nothing but a cynical asshole.

No one considered the effect they would have on Stan if they stopped communicating with him, not understanding that he was deep into his depression right now, completely, and utterly, helpless against a disease he did not choose. And now that he was alone, it was just Stan, and his harmful thoughts.

It didn't help either when he picked up the bottle to feel better, falling into the footsteps of his father. It was the only thing that helped him to escape his detrimental thoughts now. having no friends, or family, to distract him through his mental misery. Stan would never admit he was struggling though, only ignoring people's random interests in his well-being, only attending social events for the booze.

What hurt the most to Stan, the thing that kept him drinking and crying the most, was Kyle. As soon as Stan started to lash out at everyone with a bottle in his hand, Kyle turned to Craig, abandoning Stan. He never got to tell Kyle that he was in love with him, and it was sickening to him that he was with Craig now. Even if Kyle was happy, Stan couldn't bear the thought of Kyle with someone else.

And now it was New Years Eve, and Stan was at some random, sketchy party in Denver, sitting on a musty couch with a half a bottle of whiskey clenched in his bruised fists. Everyone at the party were drinkers like him, only hanging around each other to get fucked up and fight; none of them actually cared for each other. Stan's so-called "friends" thought he was the shit, thinking his hands were bruised for fighting with some asshole, but in reality, they were self-inflicted. Nearly every night, when Stan got drunk, he could punch walls, or even himself, trying to feel any type of physical pain, instead of the pain inside his head.

While Stan was getting trashed beyond what a normal person could handle, Kyle was across town, only about ten blocks away, at what some would call a "classier" party, but in reality, it was just a typical party. Kyle was standing in Craig's kitchen, sipping the glass of water in his hand, and eating a slice of pizza as he listened to some crazy ass story Kenny was telling to everyone, which happened to involved Stan. Everyone at Craig's party was pretty new in their lives, and didn't see the pain it caused Kyle to hear Stan's name.

Kyle never told Stan, but because of his depressing and alcoholic tendencies, Kyle had started drinking. One night, he had tried to walk home, and passed out on the sidewalk, getting mugged and beat by some passing assholes. Craig happened to find him, and brought him back to his apartment, and advised Kyle to get space from Stan until he was better. Although Craig was right, it hurt Kyle to drop Stan, more than it did to get beat to shit.

Thinking of Stan more deeply than he had in months, Kyle set down his glass, walking out to the balcony from the sliding doors, feeling relieved as Kenny's voice was cut off from the doors. He needed space from that story - it used to be such a happy memory, but now it was.. it was sad reminder of who Stan used to be. But Kyle was smart enough to know that Stan was sick with something that wasn't his fault. Kyle had begged him to go to treatment, see a therapist, or even go to AA, but each time, Stan had refused.

If Kyle could have it his way, Stan would be there with him right now, yelling at people down on the sidewalk for no reason other than to laugh. God, did he miss Stan's laugh. It chest felt like it was caving in as he realized, he would never hear his laugh again.

With everyone laughing around him, Stan just chugged more and more of his whiskey, his eyes glued on the TV as random shit about the new year went on. It was all bullshit to him. Everyone laughing around him was bullshit. The happiness on the TV was bullshit. Everything was fucking bullshit. That was the only thing he was sure of anymore. 

"Marsh!" Stan whipped his head behind him, seeing one of his "friends", Scott, staggering towards him, a sly smile on his face. "The fuck are you doing sitting there?!"

Stan only shrugged, taking another long swig of his whiskey as Scott sat next to him. "Getting fucked up."

Grabbing Stan forcefully from the couch, Scott took him to the kitchen, shoving a cigarette into his mouth. Stan didn't say anything as he lit it up, taking in small puffs as he felt his head pound from getting up to fast. Leaning against the counter, Scott patted Stan's cheek gently, but sarcastically. "You're a little fuck up, aren't you?"

Again, Stan didn't respond, only taking another drink, never letting his eyes leave Scott's. Getting annoyed at Stan's lack of words, Scott pushed him, his bottle nearly slipping from his fingers as he tried to regain his balance. "..The fuck?"

Scott held his arms out, trying to pose as an alpha male for absolutely no reason. "Let's fucking go, Marsh. I'll kick your pathetic ass."

While Scott was looking around trying to get everyone pumped up, Stan threw a punch that hit Scott square in the jaw, immediately knocking him out. The room went dead silent as Scott laid on the floor unconscious. Stan stole a cigarette off the counter and lit it, slowly leaving the silence behind him. Sure, he and Scott had fought before, but that had been the first time Stan had actually thrown a punch back. If Stan was really thinking about it, he would've compared Scott to a skinny, smarted Eric Cartman.

Now that Stan was out of that shitty apartment building, he had no idea where to go. He had been planning on crashing on the couch like usual, but that obviously wasn't going to happen, especially since Scott was such a fucking crybaby. 

Tilting his head back completely, Stan chugged the rest of his bottle, throwing it on the ground, the sound of glass smashing echoing the city. Though it was New Years Eve and everyone was partying, in that part of town, everyone was more concerned with locking their doors and avoiding gun violence. Stan didn't care though, in fact, he was kind of hoping that he would get shot - it wouldn't be a suicide, which would be easier on his mother.

Completely blacked out from how much alcohol he had drank, Stan pulled out his phone, scrolling through his contacts until he stumbled across the one he was subconsciously looking for: Kyle's. Pressing the text option on his screen, Stan squinted as he type out a barely comprehensible message to Kyle:

Stan: kyle i miesk ouyd aso m mnuch

After walking for a few, Stan kind of noticed he was in a better part of town, walking between an alley to get to the main part of the city, where there were more lights and people. As he found his way there, he gave up walking back to his shitty apartment, sitting on the ground of some random alleyway, his head in his arms. With tears welling up in his eyes, Stan jumped when he felt his phone vibrate. 

Kyle: What?

Stan: kyle i can st doi this anymmore

Reading the words he just typed to Kyle, Stan erupted into sobs, his body shaking with grief as he realized exactly how true those words were to him now. He couldn't live miserably anymore, and he was about to give up. If he wasn't happy anymore, really, what was the point of going on? Stan thought he was worthless to everyone anyway, and he was just some fucking failure.

Surprised by the fact that Kyle was even responding, even in Stan's state, he jumped every time his phone vibrated.

Kyle: Can't do what anymore?

Stan: live. i cant live anymor e kyle. im worthless.. bye.

Frustrated with the fact that he was too drunk to move, Stan smacked the back of his bed on the wall behind him, the pain blinding him so bad, the usual pain of pulling on his hair was almost pleasurable for him. Biting onto the flesh of his arms to muffle the noise of him screaming in agony, Stan's body shook with sobs, his chest tightening from just the want to rip his only fucking skin apart. 

After calming down for a moment, Stan looked around the alley, looking for anything to kill himself. He was done this time. For real. Nothing was going to stop him from just ending his miserable life in some random alley on New Years Eve. But Stan couldn't find anything but boxes, and random garbage, causing him to kick random shit around in anger. 

On the ground, Stan saw his phone lighting up with text messages. Wiping the tears from his eyes, Stan stumbled over to it, more anger rising inside of him as he read them.

Kyle: Don't say that, Stan. You're worth a lot more than you realize.

Kyle: Stan?

Kyle: Dude

Kyle: Wait, are you serious?

Kyle: Damn it dude, please answer.

Kyle: Look, I know we aren't friends anymore, but I need you alive

Kyle: Stan, please answer

Kyle: Don't make me come and fucking find you

Kyle: Stanley Marsh

Kyle: Text back, please.

To Stan, Kyle didn't give a shit about him. He was always trying to be the good guy, trying to get everyone to think he was a victim and someone who needed to be pitied. Completely annihilated with anger towards himself and Kyle, Stan threw his phone at the wall, hearing it clank to the ground as he slowly slid down the wall behind him, like a sad cliche scene in a drama show.

His body shaking with anger, despair, and suicidal thoughts, Stan hugged his knees into his chest as he cried silently, digging his fingers into his knees. He wanted nothing more than to end it right there, but he was too fucking drunk to stand anymore. He was a failure, he couldn't even fucking kill himself.

"Stan?!" As soon as Stan heard Kyle's voice, his head shot up, his bottom lip trembling as Kyle ran towards him. Kyle knelt down in front of Stan, checking frantically over every inch of his body for injuries. "Are you okay? Why weren't you answering?"

Shaking his head, thinking that he was just so drunk that he was hallucinating, Stan let out a few more sobs. "A-Are you really here?"

Before Kyle could answer, Stan reached out and touched his cheek gently, his hazy eyes almost sparkling as he realized that Kyle had actually came for him. Breathless from Stan touching him so softly, Kyle's voice came out rough. "Y-Yeah, I'm here Stan. Are you okay?"

"No." Stan said simple, chuckling humorlessly. "I'm miserable, Ky. I-I mean.. I'm drunk on New Years Eve. I text-texted you.."

Placing his hand gently on top of Stan's, Kyle smiled lightly, tears in his eyes. "Stan, I'm sorry." Tilting his head as if to ask what for, Stan grimaced, sucking in his dry lips as Kyle continued. "I should've told you that I started drinking too, and the reason I couldn't speak to you anymore, was because of that. Not because I don't love you."

Just sober enough to comprehend Kyle's words, Stan burst out into tears, tears he didn't know he was holding in. "I need help, Ky."

Engulfing Stan into a hug, Kyle rocked them back and forth softly as Stan cried in his shoulder. "We'll get you it, baby. I won't leave you this time. I promise."

Grabbing the back of Kyle's jacket tightly, Stan nodded against his chest, breathing in his scent as deeply as possible, just in case his promise wasn't for real. Kyle refused to let go of Stan, even as it began snowing, decorating their hair with snowflakes. Stan pulled away finally though, placing his hand softly against Kyle's cheek again.

Leaning into Stan's hand, Kyle's green eyes glistened with tears as he looked at Stan's defeated face. He loved him, so much. "Ky, I'm going to get better. For you, my angel."

**Author's Note:**

> The ending was kind of weird, but I never know how to end one shots??? Anyways, thank you for reading this bad one shot <3


End file.
